


You'll be Out of Place and Underdressed

by WishingOnWhishaw



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Angst, Clothing Kink, Established Relationship, First Dates, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, One Shot, Shopping, Suits, kind of, technically anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 14:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2029278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WishingOnWhishaw/pseuds/WishingOnWhishaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael's a little tired of Trevor and the fact they can't go to nice places with T's personal hygiene. Boy is he in for a surprise when Trevor actually listens to his complaints.</p>
<p>Written for this: Michael tries to get Trevor to buy nice clothes and look sort of presentable and Trevor does it because he loves Michael</p>
            </blockquote>





	You'll be Out of Place and Underdressed

**Author's Note:**

> Never written these characters before, hai. Sorry if they're completely off, I just had to write something for them. All errors are my ow. Feedback is greatly appreciated. I may write a sequel, it depends on how I'm feeling and if it's wanted.
> 
> Huge shout out to soobwhaleomg on tumblr who is not only a fantastic Trikey shipping bundle of awesome, but on top of that, was the one to give me the prompt for this fic. Check them out!
> 
> Also, check out the song "There's a Good Reason These Tables Are Numbered, Honey, You Just Haven't Thought of it Yet," by Panic! at the Disco, since that's where I got the title. Once again I've been uncreative and stole it from a song that reminds me of Trevor, for some reason? Idk.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

If Michael had to sum up Trevor Philips in as few words as possible, then the two he'd choose would be 'hard work'. There really was no better way to describe the man, at least whilst avoiding words like psychotic (because, really, who was Michael to judge him for that?) and trying not to piss the man off. The two of them had grown ever closer since Trevor had found out that his old friend wasn't actually dead. Sure, they'd argued a lot at first, had even threatened to kill one another on multiple occasions, but even that was pretty normal by their standards. Either way, that had all settled down by now, and they started hanging out just like they used to. Away from the jobs and without death threats constantly being thrown back and forth, they were just like the  friends they had once been. 

It didn't come as a surprise to neither Michael nor Trevor when they began falling back into their old habits. It was only a matter of time, really, before they started to pick up where they left off. Or, more accurately, repeated their routine from all those years ago. They were friends again first, just two guys with a lot in common who enjoyed each other's company. Only their true feelings didn't take long to surface, the buried sexual tension and the undeniable love that they shared coming out into the open again.

Had anyone told Michael before all this started that Trevor Philips was capable of love, he probably would have laughed right in their face, but being on the receiving end of that love shook him and opened his eyes. Trevor was so intense with such a fierce loyalty, and sure, the man had a strange way of showing it, but there was no way that he wasn't in love with Michael. Whether he expressed it through setting fire to some guy that Michael argued with or by breaking in to the other man's house in the early hours of the morning and crawling into his bed, wearing nothing but his tighty-whities and smelling of cheap booze, Trevor loved Michael. And he was reluctant to admit to it, but Michael loved him back too.

So obviously their friendship quickly grew to be something more, and they followed a well-known path. Just as they had before, things changed one night when the pair were drunk and turned on, with Michael reluctant as ever to admit to anything the morning after. It only took a couple of repeats of such an instance for them to start taking things seriously again. They realised that each of them still cared for the other just as much as before, and so they became a couple, not that either would label themselves with that. They didn't believe in titles, but when they went out on one of their 'dates', be it to the cinema or a bar, or even when they caused a little bit of mayhem around Los Santos (because sometimes, they could't resist it) it was obvious they were together. It was more like an unspoken truth that something they sang about from rooftops.

It was when their relationship was in this stage, though, that Michael really saw how difficult Trevor could be. The man was constantly challenging the things Michael said, loving to get his best friend wound up, even if he agreed with the point Michael was making. However, there were some things that they genuinely argued over. Like the fact that Trevor was a hipster or that Michael could do with some exercise. And, most recently, that Trevor really needed to sort out his personal hygiene issues.

Most of the time, Michael really didn't care about it all that much. He'd spent years around Trevor, and as a result, he'd got used to the smell of a man who never cleaned his home, who wore unwashed clothes and often went for weeks on end without a shower. It was just one of those things about him that Michael had learned to accept, like the fact that Trevor was quick to anger with a violent streak, that he would get mad and lash out at civilians with no remorse or that the man was harshly honest about _everything_. All of that made up who Trevor was. But right now, he needed him to make an effort. Before, Michael could easily brush off the cleanliness issue and blame it on the fact that Trevor didn't have all that much money, even with the scores they pulled. However, that wasn't true after their latest big (history-making, Michael might add) job.

"Come on, T, it's not like it's a big deal," Michael tried to reason, sitting under the shade of Trevor's front porch whilst the two drank their beers. "I'm not asking you to wear a dress or something."

"I'll wear a fucking dress, I don't give a shit," Trevor snapped in response, standing up from his flimsy chair and kicking it away as he glared at Michael. "That what you want, huh Townley? Wanna dress me up all pretty so you can show me off?"

"You know that's not what this is about," he sighed. "I'm just saying, it's not gonna hurt you to buy some new clothes for once."

"Bull shit that's not what this is about! You think you can just make your demands and that I'm gonna take orders from you like some pathetic little bitch that you've got a collar on, that's what this is. Well guess what? I've got a fucking news flash for ya, Mikey. I'm not gonna play along to your sad little games so that you can pretend we're all fucking happy and normal! 'Cause we ain't, and that ain't gonna change if we go sit in your big empty house with your five thousand dollar suits and the fucking whiskey you drink because _'we're living the high life now, Trevor, we've moved passed beer!'_   You think you're so much better than everyone else, better than me, and you're just trying to make me fit to your standards. Well, it ain't fucking happening, sugar, you hear me?"

By the end of his rant, Trevor was gripping the bottle in his hand so tight his knuckles were completely white, and Michael was shocked that he hadn't thrown the thing or smashed the glass in his fist by this point. Michael shook his head slowly, knowing better than to push the man further.

"Yeah, whatever. If you don't wanna go shopping for once in a fucking decade, I ain't gonna make you, don't worry. I'm just saying, it would've been nice to go for dinner at an actual restaurant for a change. You'd rather stay here all the time, getting pissed and eating left over take out? We'll fucking do that. Now, sit back down, will ya?"

It took Trevor a few moments, in which he continued to stare at Michael, his jaw clenched and eyes narrowed before he actually listened to his partner. He let out a deep breath and grabbed his chair again, pulling it back to its previous position on the porch. The two sat there for a long while in a heavy silence, both drinking their own beers slowly. Trevor thought over what Michael had said, running through his words and what they could mean. Maybe this wasn't him trying to train Trevor, to get them both into what Michael liked to call 'retirement'. 

Michael had said he wanted to go out. To dinner. That was like a date, right? Did Michael want to take him out on a fucking date? Sure, they went places together all the time, but nowhere that required either of them to dress up. Or in Michael's case, dress up in something more than his usual designer labels. Well, this was new. If Michael wanted to play happy couples and take Trevor out to some fancy ass restaurant with over-priced food, then who was he to say no to his lover?  
  


* * *

  
Trevor had never set foot in a Ponsonbys in his life. The store seemed like Michael's paradise, but it was everything that Trevor despised. There was a reason he'd never been in one of these shops, aside from the fact they were only found in LS and he had rarely strayed from Sandy Shores until he'd recently become reacquainted with Michael. Every piece of clothing in this store was fancy and much too expensive, in Trevor's opinion. He'd arrived in his usual filthy attire and parked his Bodhi on the side walk. When the cashier gave him a distasteful look Trevor glared threateningly in response, but he knew they were both thinking the exact same thing. Trevor was out of place here, but he didn't care.

He refrained from threatening the woman behind the counter when she greeted him with a pinched look and a pleasant tone that was obnoxiously false. Instead he ignored her, and began looking through the  clothes, deciding not to pay any attention to the price tags until he actually paid. He thought of Michael and how Trevor would be able to surprise him for once, with something that could gain a better reaction than his usual stunts. That, and the thought of Trevor's current bank balance kept him sane as he browsed the store.

He immediately decided the polo shirts were out of the question, and moved on. The sweaters weren't all that bad, but he thought he could do better for his date. After all, if he was going to buy anything in this over-priced store, he was going to go all out. That was how he ended up looking through the suits, trying to find something that he didn't completely hate the thought of wearing for an entire evening. A full suit was still a bit much for him though. Fuck Michael and his stupid restaurants if they wanted Trevor to dress like a privileged ass hole in a tux or something. Still, Trevor kept looking.

Eventually he settled on a pair of decent suit pants that didn't look ridiculous on him. He may be doing this to please his lover, but having Michael laughing at him all night was not what Trevor was aiming for, and so for the first time in his memory, Trevor actually went to try on the clothes before deciding upon them. The sandy coloured suit pants were settled on, but he'd be damned if he bought the jacket and shirt that the mannequin wore with them. Trevor looked around a little more, drifting slowly to the other side of the store. He came across a blazer the same colour as his pants and concluded that a much better alternative to a suit jacket. It was slightly more casual, and when Trevor found T-shirts in the store he actually let out a yell of delight.

"That's just fucking wonderful," he said to himself as he grabbed an off-white T-shirt from a hanger. Admittedly they were stupidly expensive shirts, with a blend of cotton—and probably a few other materials Trevor didn't give a shit about—that looked soft before you even got to touch it. But whatever, a T-shirt was a T-shirt and he'd pick that over the more formal options any day, especially when the low cut of the neck showed off his very non-formal tattoo. Trevor also picked up a pair of brown loafers to match his outfit before paying for the lot, not listening all that much when he was told the price of his new clothing items. He didn't bother to thank the cashier when he took his bag and left, throwing it into his truck. He pulled out his phone, smirking as he text Michael.

'Guess who's just been shopping, sugar tits?' he typed out, before adding: 'Now, book us a fucking table so you can wine and dine me.'  
  


* * *

  
Trevor was certainly not an expert in the fine dining experiences of Los Santos, but he was pretty sure that a restaurant of this standard required a longer reservation notice than just over a week. He'd honestly never heard of the place Michael said they were going to, but a quick search on the internet told him all he needed to know. The place was well-renowned and he was fucking astounded that fat snake like Michael had managed to get them a date there. After all, it's not like the guy was a huge deal amongst anything but the criminal class and law enforcement. And it certainly wasn't as if Trevor was nervous about the whole thing because Trevor Philips was above getting butterflies in his stomach like a teenage girl before he went out to dinner with his boyfriend. For fucks sake, he killed people when he got too bored, he robbed fuck knows how many banks just for the fun of it, and he didn't feel even a tiny bit nervous then. So of course, he could deal with this.

And that's what he told himself over and over on his drive down to Michael's house from his trailer. He felt strange though, he'd admit that. He'd actually made an effort tonight, even going so far as to shower before he started getting ready. It's not like Michael would give a shit what he looked like, anyway, the man never did. So even if Trevor was a  _tiny_  bit on edge, there was no need for him to be, he was sure.

He pulled into Michael's driveway, parking the Bodhi off to one side so it wouldn't be blocking Michael's car—which they'd be going to dinner in—and jumped out. He quickly brushed down his pants, scowling down at them and trying not to get pissed off about how they weren't his usual cargo pants or sweats.

"Stupid fancy fucking clothes," he grumbled as he let himself into his partner's home. "Mikey!" he called. "Get your ass down here!" Trevor heard movement upstairs that sounded suspiciously like Michael rushing around before there were footsteps coming quickly down the stairs before him. Trevor refused to acknowledge the jealousy he felt towards his lover over how easily Michael could pull off his formal wear. He was dressed in a white shirt and black vest, with a pale blue sports coat over the top and was also wearing grey pants that were just that little bit tight on him (not that Trevor was about to complain).

He stopped just before he reached the bottom, eyes looking Trevor up and down in a way that almost made the other man self concious.

"You laugh and I'll kick you in your fucking balls, Townley," Trevor threatened, teeth gritted as he started regretting this whole idea. He knew these clothes were stupid, knew that he needed to leave and as soon as possible, before Michael could start winding him up about how he looked like an idiot. Michael blinked a couple of times before shaking his head quickly and speaking.

"N-no, T, that's not... I wasn't gonna laugh."

"Bull shit you weren't."

"No, really! I was just, looking, y'know, you uh... You look pretty good like that," Michael admitted in a smaller voice, shrugging his shoulders at the admission.

Well, now that was unexpected, wasn't it? Trevor smirked on instinct, his eyebrows raising suggestively as he walked toward Michael who was stood at the foot of the stairs, still staring.

"Hm, you like what  you see then? You get the hots for guys in a suit, is that what this is about?"

"Trevor, shut the fuck up," Michael mumbled, grabbing his car keys and heading for the door. "We've got a reservation."

"Oh, don't think you're wriggling out of this that easily, Mikey!" Came the Canadian's chirpy reply as he followed Michael out to his car. "We've got all of dinner to discuss how well presented I went and made myself, all for my favourite murderer."

"Fuck, could you maybe keep your voice down?" Said Michael, his cheeks flushed red. "It's not like everyone in the damn city needs to know."

"Really, M? I show you my undying love by changing my ways for you, and this is the thanks I get? You wound me."

"Yeah well, I'm sure you won't be complaining when you insist on make-up sex later. Now get in the fucking car, we're gonna be late."

"Love ya too, Mike!" Trevor sang as he climbed in the passenger side, giggling.

"Yeah," Michael chuckled fondly. "I love you, you fucking psycho." 


End file.
